One Word Prompt Series: Addict
by kdzl
Summary: Your entire life, you've always known you were an addict. You thought you knew what that meant, but now you're not so sure. WARNINGS: drug use discussed, but not in detail.


_**AN/ This started off as the small one-shot about Hotch called "Push" and snowballed into this and the other stories of this series that will soon be posted. This series is called the "One-word Prompt Series" for reasons that you will probably understand. There's a poll on my profile for you to vote for the one you like best because I'm doing each character, so let me know which one you like. I also very much appreciate reviews, but I really enjoyed writing this.**_

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds--but if I did, everything that I write here would be on the show. But its not._**

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* * *

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_"A question that sometimes makes me hazy--Am I, or the other's crazy?"_

_-Albert Einstein_

* * *

You swipe a stringy lock of hair out of your eyes as you enter the familiar BAU bullpen. It just seems so dark, so sad. Etched with the memories of those that you had worked with, you wonder if your eidetic memory will keep them etched in your mind.

Or if they--like your father--will just become a memory.

You hope its the former, because you can't bear to think that one day, you won't remember.

Part of you knows that you need to move on, to find something to occupy your mind that works far more quickly, but for the most part, you don't want to. You want to become addicted to the memories of your friends, the lives of those who had touched you. The people, who for the first time, saw you as an equal. You don't know how you can do it, and still stay sane.

You've always been one to become obsessed--addicted is probably the more correct word, you correct yourself--with things. You crave. You need. It's what helps you know that you're still human.

And right now, all you want to do is stay addicted to the memories.

Because it helps you know that you're human.

"Hey, kid." Morgan addresses you.

It's only then that you realize that you've been standing in front of the glass doors for far too long. Addicted to the memory of those who, for the first time in your life, didn't see you as some childish freak.

"Hey." You respond, walking over quickly to your desk and discarding your messenger bag.

You hope Morgan takes the hint, you are definitely not ready to talk about the death of the people you had only worked with a short time. You curse Adrian Bale, and in some recess of your mind, a part that you would never actually acknowledge, you wonder what it would be like to listen to his screams as his body burns to death after the explosion. You push that thought far out of your mind, knowing that what Gideon would say if he found you dwelling on those thoughts.

It's better to be addicted to the memory of your friends, you remind yourself, then to be addicted to hate. At least that's what you know you should believe.

It's only a few moments later when Morgan sighs loudly. "You want to go get some coffee?" He asks, then amends, "or maybe a haircut?"

You've never been one who enjoys the dark liquid. Now, however, it seems ideal. And maybe a new haircut wouldn't be so bad.

You need something to fill the void.

After all, you've always known, you are an addict.

* * *

Coffee has quickly filled the void left by your friends. You quickly find that if you add enough sugar, it takes away the bitter taste that makes you almost want to vomit.

It's an offhanded comment one day just after you and the team finished your search for the Seattle Strangler that makes you smile.

"Watch out for the genius, he's addicted to that stuff." You hear the new liaison, a blonde who is way out of your league, tell the new girl.

Little does she know how right she is.

* * *

As you stand in the BAU bullpen, wearing a ridiculous hat and feeling like an idiot, you can't help but smile as you hear JJ's soft voice call you "Spence."

It may not be a big deal, but to you, it means the world.

Because you've never been close enough to someone for them to give you a nickname, other than "The freaky genius kid."

And having JJ call you Spence, well, it doesn't make you feel special. Your entire life you've been special. No, JJ's nickname for you makes you feel blissfully _normal._

And you love that feeling.

So much so, that you admit it to Gideon.

And as JJ hands you a piece of chocolate cake, saying "first piece for the birthday boy," you think that normal could be something you could easily be addicted to.

You convince yourself that it's the chocolate that makes you feel so happy, and attempt to ignore the tingly sensation that creeps up as JJ places her hand on your shoulder.

Because becoming addicted to a girl would be utterly ridiculous.

Especially once Morgan points out that you are a nerd. "No wonder you can't get a date."

And you can't help but wonder if all of the girls in the universe are combining against you.

Because nerds don't get the pretty girls.

But you can't ask JJ, because you don't want to seem weak in front of her. Because for some reason, you need to be important. You need her to think that you are okay with yourself.

Even if you're not.

So you go to the next best person--Elle.

She points out that you don't date because you don't ask. And for a moment, it seems that easy. For a moment, and possibly for the rest of that evening, it seems that the key to dating lie only in being bold enough to ask.

It's when Gideon gives you the tickets to the Redskins, and explains his intentions for you to take JJ on a date, that you realize how foolish your idea really was. You try not to freak out as the many reasons why this is a bad idea float through your mind at warp speed. Because girls like JJ don't go on dates with guys like you. Girls like JJ go on dates with guys like Morgan.

But as she looks up at you from her file and smiles, you know that you're in for a difficult time.

Because it is _very _possible that you could become addicted to the blonde at the other side of the plane that loves chocolate and butterflies and football.

And that terrifies you.

* * *

You thought you were over this. This thought, well it had been an addiction for you for a long time. But you were over it, you were done.

But addicts, even they relapse.

And so, with another kick to your abdomen, as Hotch screams one more time, "Front Sight, Trigger Press, Follow through--Even a Dalmatian could do it", you unsnap the gun from his ankle holster, fighting the thought that creeps up in your mind. Knowing that he couldn't possibly think you're worthless.

Even if you do.

You barely hear Phillip Dowd address Hotch, but you clearly hear Hotch's response "I think he got the message."

That's when you lie on your back and take the shot.

It doesn't matter what you think of yourself right now. It doesn't matter what Hotch thinks of you. You know that you need to take down an UnSub, and so you fight to keep the familiar insecurities at bay. It's only when Dowd goes down with a kill shot between the eyes, that you look over at Hotch. The pride in his eyes is unmistakable, and for once, you're glad that you fought the addiction.

* * *

When you suggest the magic trick, it's almost as a joke. Slight of hand, well that's always been your thing. Once everyone looks at you in surprise, you easily yield to the temptation--no, the addiction--to be the hero.

"Teach it to me." Morgan commands.

"I've been practicing this my whole life and we have less than thirty minutes." You point out, part of you knowing that if you could teach anyone, it would probably be Morgan.

But you want it to be you. You want to be the one who saves Elle, who risks everything and puts their life on the line for the team. You want to be the hero.

You don't want it to be Morgan.

And you're shocked that Hotch and Gideon let you do it.

But it doesn't matter, because you _desperately_ want to make them proud. You want them to know that you too can be the hero. That it doesn't have to be Morgan who tackles the UnSub, that you can do it.

As Dr. Bryer is carried out on a stretcher, you wonder how dangerous your addiction is.

And you vow not to let anyone else get hurt.

* * *

Sleep comes easily after your talk with Gideon. Maybe you just needed another case. Maybe it was just that being held hostage on a train dredged up some painful memories that caused your nightmares.

Whatever the reason, you're grateful that sleep comes easily.

Because Corey Bridges, he was a little too close for comfort. You muse as you can feel the darkness engulfing you.

But you fight it for a moment, because you need to come to a conclusion.

Because you refuse to become addicted to the nightmares.

As a profiler, you saw how Corey thrived on being smarter than everyone else. The killings were probably more about seeing if he could get away with it, his need to be the best and brightest overcoming his sense of morality.

And now, you wonder as you begin to drift off to sleep, you wonder if you will ever get that deep.

So deep that intelligence becomes more important than morality.

You hope not.

* * *

Playing poker with Morgan, JJ, and Hotch, you try not to win every hand.

Because they might stop playing with you if they _truly_ realized that you can win every hand.

And though its a gamble, you think that their friendship might mean more to you than winning every hand.

"How is it you keep winning all the time?" Morgan asks, trying to mask his slight annoyance at having you school him in poker.

"Poker is a game of statistics and probabilities" you try to ramble off the familiar excuse.

"And he's from Vegas." Hotch teases lightly, and you can't help but feel as though he's pushing you to believe that you fit in.

And you're grateful to him for that.

And part of you bursts with pride that Hotch remembered where your from. It's simple, almost ridiculously so, but it still makes you feel valued.

But its a gamble, allowing yourself to be slightly vulnerable enough to really become a family with these people. Because in the past, whenever you've been vulnerable, people have disappointed you.

Because if growing up in Vegas taught you one thing, it's that gambling is addictive.

But there's also the payoff.

As JJ asks you to count her in for another hand, you wonder if maybe you had been too foolish in insisting that you didn't like her. Because you still think about the night at the Redskins game, and you wonder--not for the first time--if you made up the sadness in her eyes at your revelation that you weren't interested. But you were (and still are) sure that JJ couldn't possibly have been interested in you.

It was a gamble.

But you didn't want to get hurt.

But you're from Vegas, and you've always been addicted to gambling.

* * *

As your recent experiences flash through your mind, you quickly discover something. Fighting the addiction was a good thing, and giving into that desire to be the hero is what gets you in trouble. Fighting for control, fighting to remain level headed, that's what Hotch would want you to do.

And all you do is crave his approval.

It's only when Lila pulls you into the pool and pulls herself closer to you that you've found a new addiction.

In the back of your mind, the thought illogically pops up that after this you'll probably have to go back to coffee.

But you don't care, because as you feel her tongue slide through your lips, you've found a new addiction.

And as you inform JJ, who has rapidly become one of your best friends, as you inform her of your new addiction, there is _no_ mistaking the hurt in her eyes.

But you don't pay attention, because Lila Archer is on a magazine cover.

And sometimes an addict misses things that aren't the subject of the addict's obsession.

And the funny thing is, you still aren't sure if you're going to call her.

* * *

It's thrilling, exciting and outstanding as you look over the numbers posted in front of you. That's the moment that you realize. You realize it's changed, and while you still love sugared coffee--ever since the time with Lila, it's all you think about--your addiction has changed. This feeling, this excitement, this is what addicts crave.

It's having the team depend on you, knowing that you're the only one who can figure it out.

It's a harmless addiction, probably healthier for you than the coffee was, but its yet another time that you won't admit how much you love it.

How much you crave it. How much you need it.

Being important, being a vital member of the team. That's your new addiction.

It feels so good, it feels so right. And for just a moment, you convince yourself that you _deserve _this. And then, a fraction of a second later, your world comes crushing down as you make a startling discovery.

It's because of you--because of _this_--that it's all happening. Elle gets shot because of you, and a poor defenseless girl is locked away with some delusional burn victim.

Because you had to be important.

And you had to tell someone.

That addiction, it must have been going on for some time now, but its how Randall Garner became obsessed with your team. Because you had to show your mom how important you were. Because even though she is a paranoid schizophrenic mother, she's still your mother.

And you need her to be proud of you. You crave her approval. You need her to know how important you are. How people depended on you.

And now it's getting someone hurt.

* * *

When Elle comes back, you know that she's starting too soon. You feel it. You know it, but you don't say anything. Because you understand it. This job, this group of people that you have grown to consider as more like a family, they're addictive.

And Elle isn't about to let herself stop. Even if she is just recovering.

And you understand, because you just can't help but feel like you belong here.

So it's no surprise to you that Elle comes back quickly. It _is _a surprise to you that Hotch lets her. But you assume that he understands as well, what it's like to need this job more than you need the air you breathe.

This job, it's addictive.

* * *

You know Elle is consumed with something. You feel it. Probably because it's easy to pick out a fellow addict. You know that she hasn't been the same since the Fisher King, but you don't care. Because addicts would never tell on each other. And part of you thinks that if you were to point it out to Hotch, that you'd be betraying a woman that you've come to think of as a sister.

It's only when you knock on her door and find her drinking that you know something is wrong.

But silly you, you think it's the alcohol.

You should have known better, but you'd seen too many people drift into the abyss with the help of booze. You could never really understand that. As much as you knew you were addicted to Star Trek and the Lord of the Rings, you'd never think that someone would willingly choose to stop their mind, to numb themselves so that they were past feeling. It frightened you to think that Elle was looking for answers at the bottom of the bottle, because you knew that she wouldn't find them. You had seen the destruction that booze could cause, and while you still drink socially, you have a deep hatred for the beverage.

But just this once, you decide you'll let it slide. Because there are worse things in this world than allowing the booze to control your life.

Because who would think that someone could become addicted to vengeance?

You should have.

You're the genius, the one that the other's look to in order to think of all of the things that none of them would consider.

You are the one who should have seen it. And the blame rests on you. You can't help but feel guilty as you board the plane to see that Elle is not joining you to Ozona.

It really is all your fault.

Even though Morgan says, "Don't go there kid," you know that they blame you, that it's your fault.

You know they blame you, because you blame yourself.

Because you should have seen the signs.

And you _need_ it to be your fault.

Because if it's not your fault, then it's Hotch who missed the signs, it's Morgan who overlooked your friend's pain, it's JJ who failed, and it's Gideon who let them all down.

And you need them. You need to know that if it ever goes too far for you, that they'll be there to step up. That they'll know what to do. Because they always do. Because that's _their_ thing.

Sure, you're the one who knows all the facts and figures. All the useless information that they could get from Wikipedia if they weren't so lazy.

So they have to be right, and it has to be you that failed. Because these pseudo family roles, that's all you think about now.

It's your addiction.

* * *

It once again comes in handy to be a genius. The team depends on you, and it feels good. And even as Morgan teases you good naturedly, you can't help but feel important. You nearly burst with pride at Morgan's admission that you were reading early. Even though you know you're a genius, you can't help but blush at Morgan's praise. You try to squash the slight pride that bubbles at the awe in Morgan's eyes as you admit that it will take you as long to buy the book as it does for you to read it.

Because even though this stuff is your thing, it feels nice to be better at something than Morgan. And he doesn't miss a chance to point that out.

In some ways, he feels like the older brother that you always wished you had. The older brother that other kids had to protect them, but you always missed out.

_Allegro_. You try to stop yourself from feeling like you should have made the connection earlier.

There's no mistaking the pride in Gideon's eyes. And you secretly like to think that it's the same way your father would look at you if he were proud of you.

Because, though you'd never admit it, you like to think of Gideon like your father. Because Gideon would never abandon you like he did.

Because it's nice to have this feeling.

Like people care.

And this feeling. This belonging. This knowing that there is something that you can do that no one else can, well it's like a high. And you're an addict.

"Don't cheat." Hotch instructs you as he stands up to use the restroom on the plane.

You promptly look at his cards when he's out of eye shot.

Because, you're from Vegas.

And JJ looks the other way.

Because if anyone's an addict, it's her. She's addicted to winning. And she knows what its like to be willing to do anything to win.

Even cheat at cards.

But when she mysteriously achieves the desired amount of sets and runs, you can't help but wonder if she's cheated too.

And its okay, because you really do feel like a family. And you think that this is an addiction that you can live with.

* * *

You see a kinship in Emily Prentiss that makes you like her instantly. She's an outsider, and you know what it's like to be an outsider.

So even though Gideon is slightly caustic to her presence, you try to comfort her. You try to reassure her.

Because you've seen the way that JJ has befriended her, and you think that maybe, just maybe, your precious family dynamic can remain intact.

And she's good at the job.

But you try to help her feel less like an outsider, because that was a feeling that you could never have become addicted to.

* * *

You've vaguely made the connection before that addicts can always spot fellow addicts.

Maybe that's why Nathan Hale chose you.

Because you're a fellow addict.

And as you call frantically for an ambulance, you vow to yourself that you will never allow yourself to become addicted to those thoughts.

You scream for Garcia to find something to act as a tourniquet. And you plead that she'll find something. She's always been good at that.

Because mental illness scares the shit out of you.

And you vow to never allow yourself to become addicted like that.

_Where is the ambulance?!?_

* * *

You curse yourself once again for letting the addiction get the better of you. This relapse should _not_ have happened. But you let it.

Because JJ was around.

You _had_ to be the hero.

Even JJ was smart enough to realize that you both should stay together.

But you _had_ to be the hero.

Because even if your date with JJ went horribly wrong, and you wanted to crawl in a hole after the Redskins game, you're not entirely sure anymore that she didn't have a good time. That something between the two of you couldn't have happened if you hadn't completely ignored her for a week afterwards. And you wanted to impress her. You wanted her to see you as the hero, rather than as the lanky genius.

Because whenever she calls you Spence, you're sure that she feels something for you.

And that thought--well, it's slightly addictive. Almost as addictive as being the hero.

And as Tobias Hankle stands over you, with a gun pointed at your head, asking you to choose, you curse yourself once again.

_You had to be the hero._

Watching the gun click, you know the probabilities. Even as he's shot you up as high as a kite, your mind is still going at light speed. Maybe not the speed of light, but it's only slowed to maybe the speed of sound.

And you pray, as you know that this last time, your last chance. If you don't come up with something soon that the bullet will lodge itself in your cerebral cortex, and you pray that they'll understand. That Hotch will get the message. You hope that Hotch will push past your words to the message.

Because if he doesn't, then you're dead. And who knows what Tobias/Raphael/Charles Hankle will do once you're gone.

_Because you had to be the hero._

"I choose Aaron Hotchner."

* * *

You thought you knew what it meant to be addicted. To be consumed. The definition from Merriam-Webster comes easily to your mind, the definition that you quickly memorized at six years old when you decided to read the dictionary. You thought you knew what it meant to "devote oneself habitually or obsessively." At eight years of age, you quickly learned that you were easily addicted to things.

And it was your secret.

You thought you knew what it meant to be an addict.

To switch from obsession to obsession, from craving to craving. Always having something to focus your insanely brilliant mind on.

You thought that was addiction.

You thought you knew addiction when you almost freaked when you had to miss a Star Trek episode for your Junior year field trip with the Math Club. You thought you knew addiction when the coffee machine broke and your hands shook from the caffeine withdrawl.

As you stick the needle in your veins, your hands just slightly beginning to shake and your body sweats as it misses the Dilaudid that it has grown accustomed to, you realize you had no idea.

You had no idea what it felt like to be numb to the world, to--for once--not have your mind spinning faster than the speed of light.

It hasn't affected you on the job, you still have flashes of brilliance when they are depending on you.

You had no idea how good it would feel.

Because sadly, Tobias was right. It really does make it better.

And you try to convince yourself, for once, that you're not an addict. Because addicts and FBI Agents don't necessarily belong in the same classification.

But you don't really care anymore.

Because it makes the pain go away.

But you promise yourself that whether you are or not--and you desperately pray that you're not an addict--that it will remain your secret.

Because you've always been addicted to your secrets.

As you begin to feel the effects of the liquid in your body, you begin to wonder when an addict turns into a junkie.

You hope that won't become your secret.

* * *

When Emily, the new girl that tries to be everyone's friend but really is just attempting to disrupt the little family that you've all created, questions you about your behavior, its easy to yell at her.

You are a profiler after all, and it's easy to see that Emily Prentiss feels like an outsider.

And she is. If you have anything to say about it, that's where she'll stay.

So it's easy to tap into the anger of being kidnapped and tortured. It's easy to tap into the loathing that you have for yourself and defend yourself.

Because who is she to waltz in here and tell you that you're acting strange?

It's when you see her shield momentarily crumble, you see her look as though she wants to run and hide, that you momentarily regret your decision. But it's too late to apologize. So you pretend as though you meant it when you told her that she didn't know what she was talking about.

But when the call came to take the plane to Texas with Morgan and Emily, you just couldn't do it.

Texas was where you had decided that it was your fault. That they blamed you.

Texas reminded you of Elle. Reminded you of how judgemental you had been over her drinking.

And you realize that you've become addicted to much worse.

And it makes you sad.

Because, in the deep trenches of your mind, you realize that you aren't just an addict--you're becoming a junkie.

And you are disgusted with how okay with that you are.

Because it numbs the pain.

And you just don't want to have to feel anymore.

When Ethan tells you of his love for the music, and how obvious your current addiction is, you have a chance to think about it. For the first time, in a long time, you have a chance to think.

And you're not about to give up everything you've worked for. So you go back to work and pretend like nothing's happened. Even as Prentiss closes you off. And you realize that you deserve that. You work, because it's what you live for, and you're not willing to let yourself slowly die. At least not anymore. You don't want to be an addict. At least, not to the Dilaudid.

When Gideon finds you listening to Ethan's music, you make a vow that you are willing to bet your life on. A vow you know he'll remember.

"I'll never miss another plane again."

* * *

You realize as soon as Hotch assigns the teams, that he's paired the two of you together. You vaguely wonder how much trouble you could get into in Kansas City, Missouri, but you would have thought that about backwoods Georgia too.

And suddenly, it hits you. You realize what an idiot you really are. Because as much as he turned a blind eye to everything you were doing, you realize that he knew. He knew all along.

And he's still not entirely sure you're okay.

And he's still not entirely sure he trusts you.

Part of you feels touched that he cares enough to make sure he has an eye on you. The other part, the part that you try to push away as ridiculous, that part feels devastated that Hotch doesn't trust you.

When you meet back up with the group, it's only when Hotch says "Reid got propositioned by every prostitute we talked to, but we didn't find anybody who thinks they'd seen the unsub" that you detect the soft teasing in his voice.

And you realize that he cares. That he's pushing you to keep doing the job, to stay clean.

Even if he doesn't use so many words to say it.

And remembering that this team is more like a family, its a relapse that you're willing to take.

Because it's addictive.

* * *

Even though its been almost more than fifteen years, you can't help but feel as though it's exactly the same.

When you walk into Gideon's cabin and find the note, you can't help but feel angry. You can't help but feel hate.

Because he left you.

Just like your father did.

Maybe he's not as different from your own father as you thought he was.

And hatred is an easy thing to be addicted to.

When Emily suggests that you take another look at the letter, you think she just might have a point. She's always been able to tell you the truth. She won't lie to you, and you respect her for it.

And somewhere, you wonder if Gideon will remember you.

But the anger is just so addictive, that you toss the letter in the trash can.

_Good riddance._

* * *

Even though you've read his books three times, you rush out to buy a new set of his books when you hear he's joining the unit.

Because maybe, just maybe, you'll be able to get him to autograph them.

Sure, it's a case of hero worship, but it's _David Rossi._

And he's coming in around Halloween.

Your life can't get any better.

Yet part of you, can't help but miss Gideon. You try to squash that thought, and eventually have to just let it go.

Because you can't be angry at him forever.

* * *

You smile to yourself as you see Morgan staring at you blankly. You almost have sympathy for him. Almost. But the current topic of conversation is much too exciting for you to change, no matter how touched you are.

Because almost eight months after your last fix, he's still worried about you.

And its nice to know that he cares.

When he gets up to leave suddenly, you ask him where he's going. Because as much as he watches out for you, you want to return the favor.

Because it's nice to know that someone has your back.

It's addictive.

That word has taken on a new meaning for you now. And it's sad how for your entire life, you thought you knew what it meant to be an addict. Then you were sure you had no idea. Now, you think you've always been right. These feelings are far safer to become addicted to.

Even if people get hurt.

Because at least you're not carrying around a gun and a syringe together in your messenger bag.

It's when Morgan responds "taking back the last five minutes of my life," and it takes you a moment to remember that this is how its supposed to be.

And you're going to be okay.

* * *

It's not your first meeting, but its the first time that you've come to this particular meeting.

Because ever since you saw Jack Vaughn blow the poor kid's gray matter all over the bathroom tile, you've been craving. Maybe it's because Ryan was 28. And you're only 26. And you just can't help but remember Tobias and wonder if that's what it would look like if the bullet had gone through your skull. Whatever the reason, you've been craving, and its been hard.

Because you just want the nightmares to go away.

You just want the pain to go away.

And you know that is _exactly _what the Dilaudid will do.

But you don't want to go there again. You _can't_ go there again. Because even if Gideon abandoned you, you made a promise that you would never miss another plane again.

And even if its juvenile, you still want to keep your promises to the man who you thought of as a father. The man you thought was so different from your own father, and who turned out to be exactly like the weak man.

When your phone interrupts your statement at the podium, it's the odd vow that makes you leave. Because you never _are_ going to miss another plane again.

But the case, this case, well, it hits a little too close to home.

Because you _relate_ with Owen Savage. And when the guidance counselor says that "boys have a way of sorting these things out," you can't help the quick retort that almost jumps out of your mouth.

"Yeah, they sure do. Right now, Owen's out there sorting it out with an assault rifle."

And though you know its wrong, you can't help but think for a moment that maybe Owen has the right idea. Because you spent your life being afraid of bullies, and you know what its like to want to feel powerful. You know what its like to want to make it all go away.

And you feel slightly jealous that he at least had Jordan.

But you file that away as you realize that Hotch is punishing you for your outburst. Even though he tells you he's trying to use you to get inside Owen's head, you feel like you're a little boy being punished.

Maybe that's why you lie to Hotch and tell him to go to the cemetary.

But you need to confront Owen alone. You _need _to be in control. Because even if it's just proving to yourself that you can do the job, its showing you that you have control. And you desparately need control. Because every part of your life feels like its out of control.

Because you can't let another boy die.

Because if you do, you know exactly where to go to get the cool liquid that your body is craving.

And even as Hotch tells you that he should fire you, you say that you're sorry and that you know that you dangered members of the team--and yourself, though you hadn't thought of that one--but you can't help but be proud of yourself.

Because you gave into the craving.

And you are addicted. But the Dilaudid will stay where it's at, and you can go home.

As you look at the year medallion, you realize that maybe this is what John was trying to tell you.

That it's okay to be an addict.

You just have to be in control, and substance abuse, no matter what form, will never let you be in control.

You can live with control.

* * *

When you see Detective LaMontagne approach the group, you see JJ's panicked face and try not to smile. You and the other members of the team smirk as she tries to keep her relationship a secret.

You had been in denial that she was in a relationship for a while. Part of you hoped that now that you were clean, for good, that something could happen between the two of you.

Because there was a part of you that wished that she loved you.

But you've always tried to keep her at arms length, and JJ has never been one who's been good at not running away.

But as you see her run to him, and say that she's tired of running, you realize what you knew from the beginning.

That she was out of your league.

Because you're still recovering, and she deserves to be loved by someone who isn't going to shoot up at a moments notice.

And it's odd to you that this realization doesn't hurt. That you want JJ to be loved. That no matter how moderately obsessed with her you were, that you want her to be happy.

Maybe that's what friendship is all about.

Maybe that's what love is all about.

And maybe, just maybe, JJ was your first love.

Because even though you've been with other women, you've never had this feeling of wanting someone to be happy. Of being willing to let go.

As you walk away from the impromptu make-out session, you can't wait for your next addiction.

Because maybe then you won't have to let go.

* * *

"Was there really ever a time that this was socially acceptable?" You ask Garcia, only mildly feigning sincerity.

And it's right then that you realize that Emily isn't just _like_ a sister to you. She _is_ your sister. It's as though you came from the same family.

And it's almost foolish that you at one point thought that Emily didn't fit in. That she was trying to take over Elle's place.

Because as much as you liked Elle, Emily is family.

And even as she hides her amusement, its only when she grumbles good naturedly that you know. "What did you do to it?" She asks, grabbing the picture from Garcia's clutches. It's right then that you know. You know that Emily thinks of you as family too. Even if she does underestimate Garcia's ability to find anything. Because even though Garcia is a professional photoshop champion, her skills of seeking out anything you wished she wouldn't find are incredible.

And you're greatful to have them as family.

You don't know what you would do without them.

When you see the pain in Darcy Corbitt's father that you, you know can relate to him.

Because as you've realized before, it's easy to spot a fellow addict. And he is definitely an addict.

Maybe that's why you feel compelled to help him. To keep him from doing what you know he's trying to do. To keep him from murdering the man who killed his daughter.

Because Brian Matloff messed with family.

And you wonder what you would do if someone messed with your family.

But you have to stop Mr. Corbitt. You take the gun from the man that is consumed with vengeance, because you have to stop him.

Because it's easy to become addicted to vengeance, and you're sure that you're not going to make that mistake again.

Even if it does feed into your addiction to be the only one who can help.

* * *

You take just a second to respond.

Because you've done this before, and you know _exactly_ what you're in for if you admit to it.

And oddly, you can't help but wonder how many delusional religious zealots there are in this world.

Whatever the statistic, you vow never to be near one again.

And your hesitation, it's not because you don't want to be the hero.

Because you do.

Desperately.

But, _this_. You've done this before.

And you're not sure you can handle it. Not again. Not after how hard you've fought to stay clean.

And if they beat you, you're not sure you can handle the pain meds that the doctors would give you afterwards.

Assuming you get out of this.

You know that it's only been a fraction of a second between when Cyrus asked which of you was the FBI Agent, and when you feel your own mouth creating a response.

Your ears are surprised to hear a response before your mouth could move.

"It's me." You see Emily admit, and it seems as though, she doesn't think you can go through it again either.

And part of you is relieved.

But most of you feels guilty.

And it's that guilt, that when you see Emily in the plane as the team goes home, that painful guilt creeps up and you can't seem to look her in the eye.

Because for once, Emily Prentiss is not hiding from anything.

And even though she tells you not to, you feel guilty.

And guilt is addictive.

* * *

You know it's ridiculous, but part of you hoped that you _could_ hate him forever.

Because your father abandoned you with your schizophrenic mother when you were only ten years old.

What kind of father is that?

And as you walk back into your hotel room to find the famous David Rossi and the perfect Derek Morgan watching Daytime Soaps, you can't help but think of them as your family. It's such a natural thought that it doesn't even register.

Because this is what a real father would do. He would fight to protect his son.

And even though you know that David Rossi is nothing like your father, you can't help but be grateful for that.

Because even though you know it's irrational, you desperately want your father to be a child molester.

Because that would mean that he abandoned you for a reason.

And it makes it easier to think that he'd left to protect you, than because you weren't enough to keep him around.

Because you've spent your life blaming yourself, and this new notion that your father was sick makes it easier.

You just hope you can prove it.

Rossi insists that he be present for the hypnotherapy, to see if your _real _father is the child molester that you secretly hope he is, you can't help but feel grateful that Rossi would insist he be there. For your protection.

When the truth _really_ comes out, and you know who your father is, you still want to hate him. You want to hate him for leaving you behind, all the while living no more than ten miles away from you. You want to hate him for subjecting you to a life with a mother that could barely care for herself, let alone her son. You want to hate him for leaving, and for not being the father that you deserved.

And you try to convince yourself that you still _do _hate him.

Even if he isn't a child molester.

But as you look down into the red face of JJ's newborn son, you feel nothing but love and acceptance.

When JJ asks you to be Henry's godfather, you nearly burst with pride.

And you realize, that there's no room in your life anymore for that hatred.

There can't be room in your life anymore for that anger.

Because its too addictive.

And Henry deserves more.

* * *

It's tough to be a genius, you think to yourself.

But not for the first time, you notice that most of these psychopaths are geniuses in their own right.

Men who think that they're smarter than everyone else.

And maybe they are.

But they usually get caught.

And they hurt a lot of people in the process.

And you've never liked it when people get hurt.

And you wonder--again, not for the first time--if any variable in your life had changed, would you have ended up like them?

It's a chilling thought, and to be honest, it scares you.

Because you don't want to hurt people.

But you can understand what it's like to want to prove that you're smarter than everyone else.

But the familiar question creeps up, _What makes me different from them?_

And you may never know the answer, other than you know that you've got a godson.

And there's so many things that you haven't yet experienced--comic books to read, movies to have a slight obsession with, and new things to discover.

And you hope that is enough to keep you from ever becoming _like them._

And as a flash of brilliance strikes you again with the Fibonacci sequence, you make another vow to yourself.

You vow that you'll never become addicted to your own intelligence.

Because your morality, and possibly your addictions, are the only thing that keeps you from being like them.

* * *

When Morgan encourages you to talk to the gorgeous bartender, you can feel your palms begin to sweat. Your magic trick is well recieved, and your surprised at how she looks at you. You're not sure that you've ever seen a girl look at you like that after talking with her for a minute.

Most girls roll their eyes at you.

Most people for that matter roll their eyes at you.

But this girl, Austin, you quickly learn, she's different. She looks at you as though what you're saying matters, and for the first time in your life, you feel like you're understood.

And that understanding, well, you're not used to that.

When she asks for your number, you're almost surprised. Almost. But Austin doesn't feel like other girls, because she likes you, and for the first time in your life, you can tell.

And its exhilarating.

When you discover that the UnSub has taken Austin, you are terrified for her. And for yourself.

Because she's the first girl that you've felt suave around, and if she ends up murdered at the hands of a sadistic sociopath, then you are sure that karma is playing a cruel joke on you.

When you and the team enter the small house just in time, you only have eyes for the beautiful potential victim sobbing on the floor, and you hold her tight.

Because that's all you can think of to do.

When she calls you later, sending you back your card, you think that maybe, just maybe, karma isn't so cruel after all.

But you've _definitely_ found a new addiction.

* * *

You thought you were over this, but yet again, you've had another relapse.

Trying to play the hero, you put yourself in _another_ life or death situation, but this time, you can't help but think _"Austin's going to kill me when she finds out."_

And you wish that you had thought of that before you walked into the room where Anthrax had been spilled.

Because now you're hoping that you will make it to tell Austin what happened, _before_ she hears it from someone else.

You can see how antsy Morgan has become as he watches as you slowly succumb to the contagion.

He looks like he's ready to pounce. Or tackle something. And although its an odd thought to have, you can't help but smile at the thought that you're glad you have glass to protect you from him.

Otherwise, he'd probably tackle you for being so stupid.

It's when you wake up in the hospital room that you see something in his eyes that you would have never expected. _Relief._

Maybe Derek Morgan is human after all.

And maybe _you're_ addicted to being the hero.

* * *

As you watch the door shut behind the mother of your godson, you are oddly content.

Because even though JJ's on a date with---you stop yourself before even _your _mind can go there, because you're still not sure how you feel about this arrangement--but even though JJ's on a _date, _you are happy that she finally found someone she didn't have to run from.

Because deep down, JJ has always been a runner. And even with Will, she was almost running in place.

And it's nice that she's found someone that will chase her.

And deep down, you feel a slight sadness that it wasn't you. But, you have Austin, and life just works out that way.

And you couldn't be happier.

Looking down into Henry's face, looking into that adoration that little Henry has for you, you realize.

You're addicted to happiness.

And if this is it, then you hope it will always be around.

But even if its not, you will at least know what it feels like.

To belong.

To be part of a family.

Because all of this, all of this happiness, it's what addicts crave.

And you can finally fully give into the craving.

* * *

It's when you're standing in front of the podium, proudly receiving your five year medallion that you talk about it. They are all there--the team that is more like a family to you than a group of coworkers. You note with excitement that Austin is there, and you smile slightly at her, hoping that she knows how much you appreciate her. How much she's come to mean in your life.

"I am an addict." You start, and everyone looks at you in surprise. Because you're supposed to be clean. That's kind of the point of this.

"I've always been an addict." You amend, and Austin looks at you with understanding eyes. It amazes you at how well she understands you. That she _loves_ you.

"But I've been clean for five years." You state proudly, looking each member of the team in the eyes. You can practically feel the pride coming from them, even if it is all the way across the room.

And it makes you wonder if real families feel this strongly for each other.

Whether they do or not, it doesn't matter. Because these people, these _coworkers,_ they are your family.

"And I couldn't be happier." You finish, knowing that at least your family understands.

And this feeling of being understood, it's a feeling that you wouldn't give up for anything. This family, it's an addiction that you can hold onto.

It's a craving.

* * *

_"Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it."_

_-Helen Keller_

* * *

**_AN/Let me know what you think!_**


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